We talked about the painting I seem obsessed with right now. It started off as a small sketch and blossomed into several versions of digital artwork then a multi-media collage.
Dr. D has a habit of holding my work up facing me while he asks questions. I hate that. This time I told him he didn’t have to hold the painting so I can see it because that image is burned in my brain. It’s disturbing to look at. I keep looking at the eyes, at my eyes.
This particular version shows a child in black and white next to a full colour background in a Little Red Riding Hood coat. Instead of a red coat the coat and hood are black with a thick red line around the hood. She herself is very one dimensional but the background is in full colour and has depth. You can see the forest behind her is very colourful and extends far behind her but she herself is one dimensional. What you see is what you get. She has no depth. She’s all but dead.
I haven’t changed the name of this piece. I still call it Hungry. Dr. D asked what she’s hungry for. She’s hungry and longs to be something other than what she is. She longs for more than black and white. She longs for rest and comfort, to be warm, to be 3D. She’s hungry for change and purpose. She wants to fit in and be part of a real and colourful world.
In stark contrast to the painting I sat with a smile on my face and even laughed a few times while talking to my therapist today. He asked if the smile was real. No, it’s not I said. That’s why I ask my therapist to forget the look on my face and listen to what I’m saying. I still do not show on my face how I feel. I still don’t give any indication that I’m nearly in a panic to the point of running out of his office. And I don’t let on that I’m seconds from tossing my lunch up on his floor. I hide it too well, still. He asked why. The answer is simple; I’ve always done it this way. I remember very clearly how the mother said I could feel what I want to feel but I’d better not show it. I could be angry but I’d better not show it. When I cried she mocked me by pretending to cry. She questioned me when I smiled as if I were up to something. It was not safe to express emotion unless it was the emotion she wanted to see. There are many, many times that I give a flat expression simply because I’m use to doing so.
I know I’m not done with this picture. Whatever I need to get out hasn’t surfaced. There will be more versions of Hungry in the near future.
In Living Colour - Tuesday, November 18, 2008 – 1:10AM EST
This reminds me of an incident I read in a novel, years ago. The heroine kept drawing the same thing, larger and larger, until (I believe) it covered an entire wall. More and more detail each time, until the largest version with all the details told the story she needed to tell. I thought it was a perfect metaphor for therapy.